To the Victor Go the Spoils
by Janie-ohio
Summary: Draco Malfoy understood what Harry did not, that it was how the game was played. When a war ends, the winners are rewarded and the losers punished. The problem was that he had almost forgotten which category he was in. Two-shot. Can be read alone, or as part of my That's Life Together series around Harry and Draco's established relationship. Place in Series: July & December, 2008
1. To the Victor (Harry)

**A/N: **Two-shot. Can be read alone or as part of the series (see chapter 3 for details).

Place in series - Part 1: July 2008

* * *

**Chapter 1:**  
**To the Victor (Harry)**

"Potter, get in here!"

Harry groaned. He really did _not _need this, but when your boss called you into his office in that tone, you didn't get much choice. He had just been about to leave when he'd heard the shout. He was starving, he was exhausted, and he was already late to meet Draco for dinner at some fancy restaurant, but he couldn't avoid this. He shot off a quick Patronus to his boyfriend informing him of the delay, then resigned himself to an even crappier night and prepared for the right bollocking he was about to receive.

As he entered the office and closed the door, Head Auror Robards simply sat behind his desk and stared at him, looking very unhappy. Well, at least Harry wasn't the only one feeling disgruntled with the day's events. Harry stood at attention, hoping his not taking a seat would hurry the lecture along.

"Good evening, sir. I've just finished the last of the paperwork on the Winters case, such as it is. I also put in my report a request for reprimand for Auror Collins, as his behaviour was inexcusable."

"Exactly, Potter. It was inexcusable, and he's under your command. As Senior Auror, you are responsible for the performance of your team members, and that includes this cock-up. Their behaviour reflects on yours, and I can_ not _have people questioning your ability to lead. You have a good track record, and obviously, your history being what it is, I've been able to quell most of the concerns about making you a Senior Auror at such a young age, but that means you are under much closer scrutiny."

Harry was horrified. "Sir! I do _not _wish special treatment, and I thought I'd made that very clear over the years. If my position is being questioned-"

"Shut up, Potter, and don't be stupid. Of course, you get special treatment, but that doesn't mean you didn't deserve the damned position. I gave you the position because you earned it. I got it approved because of who you are. But people are watching you, just like they always have, and you are expected to perform accordingly. You are a stellar Auror, an amazing leader, and you're absolute rubbish at paperwork, but you delegate that task well. You're one of my best men. Or women. People. One of my best _people _." He paused and muttered under his breath. "Fuck, I'll never get that one right."

Harry relaxed marginally. "Thank you, sir."

Robards sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. He suddenly looked older than Harry was used to seeing him.

"Listen, Harry. I have five more years, then I have every intention of running off to some quiet island in the Caribbean for the rest of my days. I'm looking to train someone to replace me, and Kingsley and I both have our eye on you. You'd be the youngest Head Auror in memory, but it shouldn't be a problem getting it approved, given who you are..." He glared at Harry. "...as long as you don't let little trolls like Collins ruin it for you."

Harry was speechless. To be Head Auror, to be able to make a bigger difference, to form the direction of the department and ensure the high standards he believed in were met across the department? To make certain that fair play and decency were standard? It was an amazing opportunity, but…

"Sir, I hate to repeat myself, but I do not want to be promoted because of some fatalistic role I played in the war. I did what I had to do, but now I'm living my life and wish to be lauded for my current actions, not something that happened a decade ago."

"And that's what's happening here. We want _you_, Senior Auror Potter, not some teenaged war hero. But let's be clear in the realization that a man as young as yourself, especially one in a relationship with an ex-Death Eater, would never be considered for this position if he were not also Harry Potter. Your name just allows everyone to overlook other concerns and concentrate on your skills and reputation. Suck it up, Potter, and accept it."

Harry seethed, glaring at the wall in his attempt not to lash out at his boss. To know what people were thinking about his private life and to _hear _it were two different things, and the fact that Robards was right and he couldn't change people's perceptions was galling.

He finally managed to rein in his temper long enough to look up at Robards.

"Sir, thank you for your candour. I apologise for the events of today and take full responsibility for my team. I maintain my request for Collins' reprimand and will make sure it does not happen again. Now, I have not eaten all day and I am late for my dinner plans. Am I excused?"

Robards sighed. "Yes, Harry. Go and get some rest. Take a day or two, and I'll expect you back mid-week. Think about what I've said. You're dismissed."

Harry turned and refrained from stalking out of the room, using every bit of restraint he had left to resist slamming the door behind him. He glanced at the clock and swore when he saw the time. It just kept getting better. _Fuck._

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Harry was cleaned up and practically running through Event Alley. So yeah, he was late. Really _really_ late. And he just knew this wasn't going to go well.

According to the note he'd found in his pocket that afternoon, Draco had been planning this dinner out for a month and he was going to be irritated that he was once again held up at work. The evening was clearly important to him, though, so Harry would attempt to put his mood away and try to make the best of it.

He entered the restaurant and gave Draco's name to the host, who cleared his throat and looked him over.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I just came from work."

"Yes, Mr Potter, but we do have a dress code, even for you."

"Right." Harry took out his wand and transfigured his duster jacket into a set of dress robes. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you, sir. Now, Mr Malfoy has reserved the Cerulean Room for the evening."

"Ah, right. Thanks."

Damn, Draco was _really _going to be pissed off. He reserved a whole fucking room. Weird.

The host escorted Harry through the restaurant where diners were stuffed away in quiet nooks, private tables obscured by odd angles and strategically placed greenery. He opened a door onto a small room that reminded Harry of a wine cellar with a domed white brick ceiling, light blue furnishings, and silver lighting.

Harry looked around in awe.

"Thank you," he nodded to the host.

"Of course, sir. Enjoy your evening."

And then they were alone.

Yeah, Draco did not look pleased. Really, his face didn't look like anything, but that usually meant that he wasn't happy. He did look as though he had spent a lot of time to look nice, however, so Harry leaned over to give his boyfriend of three years a quick peck on the cheek and hoped he wasn't going to get his nose bitten off. Literally. That'd do wonders for his career.

"Draco, you look amazing. So sorry I'm late. I got pulled into a meeting that I couldn't get out of." He pulled out his chair and hesitated. "Did you get my message?"

"Yes, Potter, I got the message. Don't worry. I told you the dinner reservation was for 5:30 so you'd be here by 7." Draco smirked. "You're actually about twenty minutes early. _Shocking_."

Harry just raised an eyebrow and pushed down a swell of his irritation. It was amazing how that smirk could sometimes make him instantly hard, and other times, like now, just piss him off entirely. "Nice."

"Yes, well, I just have to know how to handle you."

Harry suppressed a growl. Sometimes, he was just so _Malfoy_.

He took his seat and took a deep breath, deciding that he was going to relax and enjoy their evening if it killed him.

"Well, I'm here now, and this looks really fancy. What's the occasion?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and just stared at him.

Harry's hackles raised further. "Well?"

"Really, Harry? Like, _really_? Merlin. You can't be fucking serious."

Goddammit, he was getting sick of this and he'd only just sat down. How was he supposed to know what Draco thought of as a special day? It wasn't Draco's birthday, or their anniversary, or some godforsaken holiday where he was supposed to buy chocolate or something. It was just a normal day, and it had been a rather crappy one at that, so he was getting kind of sick of being on the defensive here.

Harry picked up his glass of wine, and just looked at Draco. "Did you order food already too, or just the wine?"

"I took the liberty of ordering our courses, yes. I know what you like, so don't worry."

"Splendid," Harry said dryly, as a young woman appeared in the doorway with some type of soup. True, it smelled good, and he was sure he'd like it, but it was the principle of the thing.

As the server left them alone, Harry put down his wine and spread his napkin across his lap. Draco smiled and nodded in approval, as though proud of some trained crup. And _that _was what pushed him over the edge.

"Listen, I don't know what your problem is tonight, but I've had a very long and not entirely pleasant day, so I would appreciate you skipping the condescending, indulgent asshole act."

Harry downed the rest of his glass of wine, then tasted his soup. It really was quite good. Bastard.

Draco refilled Harry's glass, which for some reason just annoyed Harry more, so he continued.

"First, I get dragged out of bed early this morning after only getting about three hours of sleep last night, due to some _amazing _break in the case. I have to get dressed in the dark because you are snoring happily away, oblivious to everything around you, and then nearly broke my foot tripping over the cat.

"Now, you'd think after working nearly non-stop the last week, they'd have ensured that the tip was _actually _worth our time, but no, we end up following a wild goose chase over half of Wales before getting a message that the person we were after was sitting in our own holding cells."

Draco just stared at him with an even look and gestured for him to continue. He hated it when Draco tried to be all reasonable when he was feeling anything but.

"_Then,_ we get back to the ministry and the idiots who were interrogating him failed to follow protocol, so when the man's barrister appears, he gets him released on a technicality. I have been cleaning up the fallout from that the entire afternoon, then get called to Robards's office so he could tear a strip off me because evidently, it's the Senior Auror on the case's fault, even if I was in fucking Wales when it happened.

"So, I apologize if I am late, but I'm here as requested in your reminder note you somehow slipped into my pocket at some point today because I know it wasn't there this morning. I escaped the damned ministry, I cleaned up, I'm wearing something at least halfway decent, and _I'm here, _all to get an extra dose of sarcasm because I don't know what this supposed special occasion is!"

Harry was breathing heavy at this point, and just shoved some more of the ridiculously delicious soup into his mouth before the lady came to take it away.

Draco remained silent, just looking at him, and yes, here came the woman with some kind of crab and fruit salad. And it looked amazing. Bitch.

She quietly took the empty bowls and left them alone again. More silence.

"Are you quite finished?"

"I don't know. Should I be? Or are you going to give me a hard time about whatever special day it is that I seem to have forgotten, making me feel like an asshole?"

"Oh, I think you're doing a fine enough job of that yourself. Don't you?"

Harry glared at him and tried to calm himself. He knew he had flown off the deep end, but it had just been such a miserable day and he had been trying to enjoy the quiet evening together, just to be met with sarcasm and snark.

Which was ridiculous, because that _was _his boyfriend. Sarcasm and Snark. What else did he expect? Normally it made him laugh or challenged him and he threw it right back.

"Fine. I'm being an asshole," Harry said sullenly.

"Good. Now that we've worked that out, take a deep breath, relax, and finish this delightful wine and your crab salad before the third course comes out. We'll talk about something else entirely for now."

Harry stamped down his bad-tempered retort and tried to do as suggested. They began to talk of Teddy because that always put him in a better mood, then Draco's ridiculous coworkers and Pansy's latest business venture because they made him laugh and intrigued respectively.

By the time the fourth course reached the table, Harry was laughing and enjoying himself while sipping yet another glass of that splendid wine. The stress of the day and lingering anger was mostly gone, and he was feeling much more reasonable.

"Lamb? My favourite, thank you," Harry told the server, then smiled at Draco when they were alone again.

"This meal is altogether wonderful. Thank you. Now, that I'm somewhat fed and not an insufferable bastard, are you going to tell me why the fancy meal?" he asked as he took a bite, humming in pleasure.

"Yes, well, thank Merlin that's over. Next time I'll just start hurling food at you and hope for the best. Bloody hell, try to do something special for your boyfriend on his fucking birthday, and you get…"

"Wait, what?" Harry started laughing. "It's not my birthday. Draco, not that I don't appreciate it, but my birthday isn't until Saturday. No wonder I was so confused. Besides, we're going to the Burrow Sunday for a party, right?"

"Harry?"

"No, it's fine. I don't mind celebrating a few days early, but I was just so confused. I thought I had surely forgotten some kind of special day or something."

Harry sat back, totally relaxed now from the good wine and fine meal, and finally understanding that Draco had just mixed things up.

"Harry? What day is it?"

"What do you mean what day is it? It's Wednesday, so…" he thought about it. "It's what, the 28th?"

Draco just looked at him. "Harry, it's Saturday, the 31st."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, I know you think Gryffindors are gullible idiots, but I'm not _that_ gullible."

He took another drink of wine, amusement in his eyes. Malfoy really did look hot this evening, and now that the anger had passed and the wine gave him a good buzz, Harry could even be entertained by his antics. He found a leg under the table and ran his foot up and down Draco's entirely too sexy ankle.

Draco just laughed at him. "Salazar help me, you're pissed already. Seriously, did you eat anything today? As in today, _Saturday_, the _31st _of July? Your _twenty-eighth birthday _?"

He reached into his satchel (Ron called it a man bag, Harry snickered to himself), and handed Harry a copy of the day's _Daily Prophet_. July 31st's _Daily Prophet_. Fuck.

Harry just stared at the paper, then at Draco, then back at the paper. "Fuck. How…?"

"Still so eloquent in your old age. Honestly, Harry. You've been so deep in this case, it's not entirely surprising. You've only come home maybe two nights this past week. Did you honestly lose three whole days?"

"I must have. I just… the case. Bloody hell."

"You're working too hard. It's not reasonable what they ask of you." Draco paused and looked at him closely. "You have tomorrow off and are going to rest. We'll go to your party at the Burrow, but you need to owl Robards and tell him you're taking two more days at least. You need rest, or you're going to get yourself or your team killed."

Harry just looked at him, still stunned, then nodded. "Yeah, I s'pose you're right."

"Oh hell, he's reverting back to his peasant speech. _I s'pose_, he says. I thought I cured you of that?"

"I s'pose you're just going to have to teach me some more," Harry said with a saucy smile, amused and warm and fuzzy and yes, probably pissed.

Draco snorted. "Indeed."

He waited while the waiter cleared the plates and returned with a light chocolate mousse. Harry looked delighted, then remembered the rest of his conversation with Robards.

"And I can't take it easy, you know? I found out tonight that Robards wants to groom me to be his replacement."

Harry dropped that last statement like a bomb, waiting for Draco's explosion of shock and surprise that never came.

"Of course, he does. Please tell me this didn't come as a surprise. It was obvious, and your name will do the department a huge benefit."

Harry tried to glare, but the wine made it less effective, he figured, because Draco just laughed at him.

"Don't be obtuse. You deserve it, but you're young and that'll make them nervous. Your name will smooth the way."

Harry thought of Robards's other objection currently sitting across from him, then chose not to mention that one. Instead, he finished his time and took a bite of the lovely mousse that was still waiting for him.

Draco took a bite of his own dessert, looking Harry in the eye, then giving his spoon an extra little lick at the end.

Harry laughed and hardened, just a tad. "Happy birthday, indeed."

He waited a moment, then looked at Draco seriously. "I'm sorry I was such a prick. Thank you for remembering my birthday when even I didn't. It means a lot, love."

"Calling me love now, are you. Oh yes, totally sozzled. You'd best lay off the wine, or you'll be useless to me later."

"Oh?"

Draco raised his eyebrows in expectation.

"Oh! Oh yes, that sounds perfect! Mmm, I _do _love to fuck you."

"Harry, dammit, keep your voice down."

"What? What's a private room for if not... Oh, wait. I know." He scooted down off his chair as the wine suggested to Harry that his newly formed plan was a great idea, and he needed to show Draco how sorry he truly was for being such an utter prat tonight.

"Nope!" Draco yelled when he realized what Harry's plans were. He quickly jumped up and pulled Harry up with him. "Nope, nope, nope. Oh look, here's the waitress. I'll sign for the bill, please. Thank you. We'll be leaving right now."

Harry laughed delightedly and ran his hand down Draco's arm. "Yes, thank you for a lovely dinner this evening." He flashed what he considered his best, most charming smile at the server, making her laugh.

"Good night Mr Potter, it was a pleasure to serve you this evening. Thank you, Mr Malfoy, and good luck with him tonight." She looked at Harry and added, "Do you need any assistance?"

It sounded like Draco was going to answer, but Harry answered quickly, as she seemed a nice woman and he didn't want to hurt her feelings. "No thank you. I can handle him quite well myself, thank you." Then he leaned closer and whispered, "And no offence, but he's bent, so you'd probably not be much help anyway."

Draco must have overheard because he flushed and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, good night, and thank you."

Harry let Draco escort him out of the restaurant, where Draco burst out laughing.

"All right, Potter, you're going home and sobering up before I even think of touching you tonight. Bloody hell, I can't believe you said that to her!"

"What? Was I wrong? Anyway, I'll be fine, just let me walk it off a little."

Draco grinned. "And then, then I'll take you home and…" then he leaned over and whispered exactly what he'd do to Harry to make his night complete.

"Well, happy birthday to _me," _Harry chuckled.


	2. Go the Spoils (Draco)

**A/N: **Two-shot. Can be read alone or as part of the series (see chapter 3 for details).

Place in series - Part 2: December 2008

* * *

**Chapter 2:  
Go the Spoils (Draco)**

It was a cold early December morning as Draco finished reviewing the final proposal, then picked up his beloved family seal and pushed it into the green wax he dripped over the packet. It was finally completed, and he was set to present at the next Potions and Herbology International Symposium in January in Switzerland. This was his first time presenting at PHIS, though he had attended each of the previous three conferences as a Potions Department representative from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The best part was that he was presenting his _own _potion's work, not something done under the name of the hospital. This was his alone.

Over the last five years, Draco had proven himself within the department. Not only were his potions some of the most effective for patients, but he had improved at least a dozen medical potions in that time, invented two new ones entirely, and had his findings and work published multiple times. And now he was presenting at the most prestigious conference in the Potions World.

He could practically feel himself swelling with pride. This was something _he _did. _He _learned all he could about medicinal potions. _He _found a program where he could study and where they'd look beyond his family and his past. Yes, he'd had to go abroad, but he got accepted, and damn it, he studied his _ass _off and completed that program an entire year earlier than projected. His father's influence was no longer a help, but a hindrance, and he found a way around that and succeeded. And he'd done it all before he ever started dating Harry Potter, so he knew that this was _his_. That felt amazing.

It'd not been easy at first, coming back to London. People had long memories and five years was practically no time at all, but he'd put up with the glares and the angry looks because he knew that they were justified. He was under no illusion that he was blameless and since he was walking free, he was an easy target. So, he held himself up straight, maintained the Malfoy pride, and set out to prove to everyone that he _could _make this work.

He _could _be different than his father, than what they expected him to be. He just had to show them.

And he had. He now had respect, could walk down Diagon Alley and be greeted with some friendly faces. And those that weren't necessarily friendly at least didn't jeer. It was definitely an improvement.

And now this conference felt like the next step in his path to redemption. Between this and the promotion to Lab Head he was expecting any day, he would be set to move on to the next stage of his life.

Maybe he'd even ask Harry to get married. Ha, wasn't that a thought?

He attached the final proposal packet to Thalia, their owl, and sent it off to be delivered to the London PHIS office, then grabbed his coat and headed to work. It was going to be a stellar day.

* * *

Six hours later, the day was indeed stellar. A stellar disaster.

His assignment of potions for the day was mostly work that a third-year Hogwarts student could accomplish, so entirely boring. His long-term research project had not only lacked progress but got set back several weeks as the stasis charm on a key component had failed and ruined the entire batch.

That was all common enough in the life of a potioneer, so really, it was mostly just frustrating and irritating. Very much like the witch he had to share his lab with, actually. Putting up with her passive-aggressive bullshit was just part of his job.

Through it all, he held the feeling of his morning inside, allowing it to push him through. He knew his worth, and so did his superiors, and so did the PHIS. Her bullshit was just that: bullshit.

Then the real repugnant part occurred. That bitch Julia Barnes returned from her lunch and something was different. She tossed back her long wavy black hair (that should _not _be loose in a potions lab) and shot him a gloating smirk.

Nothing was said beyond the usual jabs in his direction, criticizing each of his methods of potion preparation as though he wasn't trained in the process his entire life and hadn't learned directly from some of the best Potions Masters in the world. She could call it old-fashioned all she liked, just because she didn't learn the traditional method did not make it obsolete. _He _was the one developing new potions and presenting at conferences, after all. Oh yes, he'd like to wipe that smirk off her freckled face.

He put up with her the entire afternoon, until nearly an hour before his time to leave, the whole team was called into the conference room for an announcement. A middle-aged, middle-sized, middle-balding (was that even a word, he wondered? Still it fit) man adjusted his robes and called for quiet.

"Thank you, everyone. I'll make this short so you can get back to what you were working on. After several months of deliberation, interviewing, and observations, we are finally able to announce our decision for our new Head of Laboratory, Julia Barnes."

Draco could feel the blood run out of his face but was utterly thankful for both his natural pale complexion and his parents' training on never displaying emotions in public. He kept all expressions hidden and stepped forward to congratulate his new boss. He then quietly walked away. Into the loo. To vomit.

As he heaved into the commode, his mind was racing. Not only did he get passed up for promotion, but he now had to report to that woman who absolutely hated him and disrespected him. He knew she was Muggleborn and had always assumed her animosity had stemmed from that fact. Now she had the power to make his life miserable.

He stepped out of the stall and crossed to the sink to wash his face and cast a quick breath-freshening charm. Looking at himself in the mirror, he decided he had to know. Was there some reason he could address that he didn't get the promotion? Some skill he didn't have? Some ass he didn't kiss?

He approached the Potions' Head's office and knocked firmly.

"Aurelius, may I have a moment with you?"

"Malfoy, hmm, yes, please come in. I can't say I'm surprised to see you. Sit, sit," he gestured to the chair in front of the desk.

"Sir, I would like to take a moment to voice my dismay at being passed over for this position. I feel that I've earned this. I have increased the effectiveness of this department, I have brought prestige by research and publishing, and now I'm even to present at the PHIS Potions Conference. With all due respect, how am I possibly less qualified for this position than Barnes?"

Aurelius Fawley looked at Draco for what felt like several long minutes, then he seemed to come to a decision and proceeded.

"Malfoy… Draco. You were raised to understand the intricacies and nuances of our society. I regret that things are changing to the extent that they are, but you must understand that we are not in a bubble here. We rely on donations and subsidies to do the great work that we do. That means that we must be aware of public opinion, and in some cases, allow that to sway our decisions.

"Ten years ago, you would have had this position over Barnes no matter your qualifications, simply because of your lineage. But we are in a new era. I'm sorry to bring it up but promoting an ex-Death Eater over a Muggleborn in today's climate would never do. And putting an Ex-Death Eater in a position that requires a certain amount of public exposure certainly would not be smart.

"This is the world we now live in. I know you recognize this, and it cannot have come as so great a shock as you appear to be experiencing."

Draco was speechless. Fawley was right. He should have seen this coming a mile away. How did he allow himself to forget what he had learned at his father's knee and in his mother's drawing-room? How did he forget himself so much that he didn't consider the political ramifications of the situation?

Potter. That's how. _We are not in a bubble here_, he had said, but that was not true. Draco had been living in a Potter bubble for the past few years and had allowed himself to forget. No, he could not think about that now. He already had let this man see too much, and he had to pull himself together.

Draco looked Aurelius in the eye. "You're quite right, of course. I merely was ensuring that the situation was as I had supposed. Thank you for your time. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to finish my work."

With that, Draco stood and left the room, to all outward appearances a calm and confident man. Outward appearance, indeed. He was a Black and a Malfoy, and he _would _come out on top of this, even if he was currently unsure which what the top was.

He stepped back into his lab and looked up at Barnes, her smirk in place as she spoke with a condescending tone. "Draco, dear, I'm so glad you're back. I won't be starting the new position until the new year, but I wanted to say that it has been, well, _an experience,_ working so closely with you. I hope you won't have a problem seeing me as your _superior,_ now will you?"

"Certainly not, Julia. Congratulations again. I am quite pleased for you. Now, please excuse me, I must clean up and head out for the evening, as I have plans."

He stepped to his work area and looked around, then made a decision. Later he might look back on this moment as his Gryffindor moment and blame Harry yet again for his influence. For now, he could only think that there was no way in hell he was working for this woman a single day.

He cleaned up his area, and as he was now alone, quickly gathered and shrunk his personal items, shoving them into a pocket. He walked to Julia's desk and grabbed a piece of parchment and her favourite self-inking quill. He thought for a moment and wrote his letter of resignation, then shoved the pen in his pocket as well.

He returned to Fawley's now empty office and left his letter on the desk. He looked around, took a deep breath, and without thinking too much further on it, left St. Mungo's.

* * *

Draco had planned to walk to Grimmauld Place, allowing himself time to clear his mind. Instead, he found himself in the Leaky Cauldron and realized he knew where he needed to go. He crossed to the floo, put a knut in the cup and grabbed a small handful of floo powder to toss in.

"Malfoy Manor - Blue Room."

He emerged into his mother's favourite sitting room, but it was empty. Good. He needed some time to think and to figure out what to do next.

Glancing at the clock above the mantle, he realized that Harry would likely be home soon, if he wasn't already, and he should likely send off a note or give him a quick floo call.

He did neither.

He just felt so lost. How could he have possibly lost himself like that? Fawley was so very right. Draco _knew _better. This place in which he was raised was a reminder of who he was and where he came from. There were many dark memories from his late teenage years, but there were thousands more of his childhood, many watching his parents play the game of social climbing and politics. He was taught this in the same way he was taught to read and write and fly and do magic. It was part of him, and he had ignored it. He had allowed himself to forget.

His mother entered the room, obviously aware he had arrived, but surprised at his distraction.

"Draco, darling? Whatever is the matter, son? You didn't say you were coming this evening. Where is Harry?"

"Mother." He approached and kissed her on each cheek. "It's good to see you. Harry's not here tonight, I came alone. I needed to think and to figure a few things out. Do you mind if I stay for dinner?"

"Not at all, you know that. I was going to be dining with Belladonna at Zabini House. Should I cancel?"

"No, actually, please go on without me. I was hoping I could just take a tray in my old room. I need some quiet and solitude."

She stared at him and cupped his face. He resisted turning his head into her palm but gave her a small smile.

"All right, dear. Just tell Linney what you'd like, and she'll take care of you. I'll be home later if you change your mind and want to talk about whatever has happened." She paused and moved her hand to his shoulder. "Did you and Harry quarrel?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, mother. And if we did, I'd handle it. But it's not that, I promise."

"Understood," She said with a nod, then headed toward the door and paused at the edge of the room. "I hope you find what you are looking for, son," and with that, she left.

He watched her go, smelling the familiar scent of her perfume that reminded him of his childhood and smiled.

"Linney," he summoned, then nodded as his mother's tiny elf appeared. "Please send a glass of firewhisky to my room and follow it with dinner in about thirty minutes."

"Yes, Master Draco." Linney bobbed, making her extraordinary long ears bounce, and looked around expectantly.

He cleared his throat, annoyed. "I'll be dining _alone,_ Linney."

She looked embarrassed at being caught looking for Harry but dipped a curtsey and popped away.

He slowly walked out of the room and stopped near the library, hearing his father's lectures on how to manipulate people and how to get what you want echoing in his ears. He reminded himself that he was trying to distance his life from that of his father. But in doing so, had he gone too far? In trying to not be his father, had he forgotten everything _useful _his father had taught him?

He continued on up the stairs and down the hall, occasionally greeting a portrait, but mostly lost in his own thoughts. When he arrived at his room, he opened the door and looked around.

The room looked much as it had when he moved out three years previous, with its rich blues, dark furniture, and elegant decor. It wasn't completely unused, as he and Harry had stayed over a time or two during a holiday or after a late-night party of his mother's, but the air did feel stale. He crossed to the sitting area in front of the window and folded himself into the chair, looking out over the dark December evening.

When had he forgotten? When had he become so used to living in Harry's world that he had forgotten that he had been on the losing side? Just this morning he had thought he'd finally done it. He had escaped the shadow of his father, of his past, of his mistakes. He had been basking in his supposed success, he thought with a flush of embarrassment.

And now he realized that it was always going to be there, even when he wasn't looking. What the fuck was he even doing? People only trusted what they perceived to be true, and they were not going to change their beliefs about him. Why would they? He didn't blame them.

He picked up the glass Linney had quietly left beside him and drank. He sat in silence, thinking deeply (because he did _not _brood) and staring out the window.

Some interminable time later, and he had no idea how long but his dinner was sitting next to him under a warming charm, he heard someone approaching behind him. He didn't have to turn to see the source. He knew those footsteps like he knew his own heartbeat.

"It's a surprise you ever passed Auror training if that's your sorry-assed excuse for stealth."

"Ha-Ha. I wasn't trying for stealth."

"Following me then, are you? Did you find another magic map that allows you to stalk me?"

"Just trying to get an understanding of what's going on. Your mum sent me a note saying you were here, then Linney nervously popped in a bit ago looking ready to burst into tears." Harry conjured a chair and sat down next to him. "Are you terrorizing house-elves again? I thought you put that behind you in second year."

"That's a pathetic attempt at humour, Potter, and I'm not in the mood."

Harry remained silent for several minutes, evidently waiting for him to talk.

"Tell me."

Draco still didn't answer, but Harry didn't say anything else, just continued to sit quietly, waiting.

"They gave the job to Barnes."

"Julia Barnes? But how? She's ridiculously under-qualified, has none of your accolades, and is an idiot to boot, if the inept attempts of flirting she throws at me every time I see her are any indicator."

"Yes, her. And the flirting attempts are at least more effectual than half of her potions. The only thing she had over me was years." Draco paused. "Well, years, plus birth status and lack of a dark mark, evidently."

Harry jerked his head up and looked at him closely, an odd note to his voice. "Why do you say that?"

"Because that's what Fawley blatantly told me!" He growled. "And he shouldn't have had to. I should have seen that obstacle and planned for it and I didn't. I didn't fucking_ see _it!" he yelled and threw the glass he was still holding at the wall, shattering it as it hit.

He was just so angry; angry at himself, at his father, at Fawley, at Barnes, and at Harry, even though he knew that was unjustified.

"Harry, I don't know if I can do this," he bit out. "I'm living in this bubble that surrounds you, where people think you walk on rainbows and fart perfume. When I'm with you, it extends around me and I forget who I am, where I come from, and what I've done. I forget what I've been taught, and I feel like I'm losing myself." He felt deflated. "The real Draco Malfoy would have seen this coming."

He barely knew what he was saying at this point, just that he was talking about trying to figure out what to do now. Harry, however, had been listening closely.

Draco was pulled to his feet and pushed up against the wall by a very angry Harry Potter, something that would have scared the piss out of most criminals. Harry was in his face before he even realized he was no longer sitting.

He began poking him in the chest with each point he made. "Don't you dare give up on us because some wankers in St. Mungo's have their heads up their arses. You are not losing yourself. You are still you, Malfoy. Trust me, I know because I want to punch your stupid mouth at least three times a week." Then he scowled in irritation. "Sometimes even when I want to kiss it or do naughty things with it. You. Are. Still. Malfoy."

He stepped back and let Draco relax, then looked around the room and continued, though quietly now.

"You're still the boy who was raised in this room, and who looked for ways to best me on whatever occasion he could find." He smiled fondly and turned back to him, looking him in the eyes. "But you're also this man Draco who strives to learn and helps cure strangers he'll never meet, and who patiently teaches my godson potions when he's an absolute nightmare at it. You're Draco, who jokes with Hermione, tolerates Ron, and attends Sunday dinners with me at the Burrow."

Draco tried to look away, but Harry caught his eye again. "So, you didn't see this coming. So what? It's not because you've lost your political acumen. You've still got that in spades, as you regularly make abundantly clear when you accurately predict people's actions at Ministry functions or suggest what people I should approach about what charities. You didn't see this coming because you've learned to think better of people, to _expect _better. That's the Draco Malfoy I fell in love with. You know, the one who wasn't such a pessimistic prick."

Draco grunted, and Harry continued.

"Listen to me. I _do not care _about other people's opinions, and you can learn to stop worrying about it as well. I _do _care about that mark on your arm, and who your father is, and all that other shite that might be held against you, because those are all challenges you've overcome.

"You are Draco Malfoy, Potions Master. _You _are the man who created a potion that markedly lessens the effects of generational blood curses helping dozens of people. And _you _are the man who has been expected to present his results at PHIS in Switzerland next month.

Draco knew Harry was good at this calming people thing and sometimes that pissed him off, that he could be so easily soothed. But for now, he chose to just be grateful.

"Now, with all that out of the way, what happened after they announced Barnes got the promotion?"

"I talked to Fawley, learned their bloody reasons, then walked back to the lab and wrote my letter of resignation." Draco suddenly thought about what he'd done.

"I quit, Harry." He felt his anxiety spike and suddenly couldn't breathe. "Oh bloody hell, what am I going to do now? I bloody quit!?"

"Of course you did, you berk. You're Draco Fucking Malfoy, that's what I'm trying to tell you. So now you're going to breathe, and then you're going to do whatever the fuck you want. You're going to open your own Potions lab or do your own research and develop new Potions or whatever else that catches your fancy. You're going to continue to take the world by the bollocks and I am going to be so damned proud to call you my husband."

"Open my own lab? How am I going…wait. What?" Anxiety immediately gone, Draco looked at Harry, disbelieving what he just heard. "Say that last bit again?"

"You fucking heard me." Harry grinned. "I am going to be so damned proud to call you my husband."

Draco just looked at him, jaw dropped, and was utterly speechless. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box.

"I was saving this for Christmas but have been carrying it around just in case the moment presented itself sooner. What I said is true. I am so proud of you, of what you've accomplished, and that you're still you and don't take any shite from anyone, even me."

He got to his knee with a serious look on his face and Draco had no idea what to do. "Draco, will you marry me so you can continue not taking shite from me for the rest of our lives?"

He still had no words. Nothing. He couldn't speak.

"Draco? Er, Malfoy? Hello? A fucking answer might be nice here."

Draco finally found his breath and glared. "You have a filthy mouth when you're nervous, Potter. I won't have you swearing at our wedding, so you'd better fix that if you want me to go through with this."

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Harry laughed. "So yeah? You'll do it?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. Yes, you berk. Now give me the damned ring," he said as he grabbed it out of Harry's hand, sliding it on. It was really quite beautiful, but he couldn't let Harry off that easily.

"This had better not turn my finger green, Potter. Malfoys have very delicate skin."

Harry laughed and grabbed him, wrapping his arms around him. "God, I love you. Now let's go take the world by the bollocks."

Draco pushed him back to the bed. "I have other bollocks in mind at the moment, thank you very much."

Harry growled. "Then show me."

* * *

In the kitchens at Malfoy manor, Linney the house-elf felt the slight shift of her magical bond. She squealed and decided she'd better make a new meal for the men. They were going to be hungry when they were done, and she had a new master to impress.

* * *

_**A/N: This story is part of a series: That's Life Together. Links and more information on my Author Profile.**_


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